


Can I Paint Your Nails?

by Cerfblanc



Series: Ready Player One : Prompts [1]
Category: Ready Player One - Ernest Cline
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Nail Polish, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerfblanc/pseuds/Cerfblanc
Summary: Art3mis convinces Parzival to let her paint his nails—for reasons unknown.





	Can I Paint Your Nails?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi—it’s pretty clear I’ve just recently seen the 2018 film adaption of Ernest Cline’s ‘Ready Player One’ aaannddd look where that’s gotten me. Haha. Anyway the majority of these mini fics will be based around the film interpretation rather than the book as I’m not as familiar with it. Enjoy! (Feedback is also appreciated! Thanks).

"Can I paint your nails?"

Parzival is on the verge of drifting into a mild doze the moment Art3mis' voice cuts through his interlude. He only hears so much of her question, and it takes him a moment to gather his bearings, and he grumbles quietly. "Paint my what?"

In an instant he is greeted in the face by a pair of way-too-familiar magenta-toned irises. He blinks.

"Your nails," Art3mis repeats, a little too persistent for Parzival's liking, but he doesn't say anything in response. He feels the softness of her fingers thread into his own in that moment, and all of a sudden he thinks they're finally getting somewhere—that was until Art3mis decided to jab one of her fingers into his side, and the impact jolts him awake.

"W-Why would you want to paint my nails?" He's somewhat overwhelmed at this point, not because of the poke, but the situation; his heart is already on its way to an overload.

Art3mis shrugs, quirks one corner of her mouth at him, blinks her glassy eyes twice. "I don't know," She tugs his hands again, closer, obviously to get a better look at his nails—they hadn't been filed and they were cut too short—Parzival wonders if this is where it would be acceptable to feel self-conscious. "I just thought it would look cool. Especially on a guy." Art3mis finishes.

_You mean on me?_ "On me?" Parzival mutters back. Art3mis looks up at him with a timid smile, the white of her teeth showing. She doesn't really look the type to be into the seemingly once typical stereotypes.

"Yeah." She replies, sort of hesitantly. "On you."

 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

 

_It's a little cold_ , he thinks. _Kind of heavy, too._ He sucks on his bottom lip. _Well, not too heavy. A light kind of heavy._

"Wanna keep the same colour or change it up a bit?"

When Art3mis speaks Parzival has to swallow the dryness lodged in the back of his throat to respond. He nods. "Um—sure. Whatever you think works."

He hadn't been paying attention to what was going on, actually. He had been daydreaming for the past half hour, legs numb and body aching to retain the stillness Art3mis had chided at him to keep, even though he just had to keep his hands still.

Art3mis rolls her eyes to meet Parzival's. "Whatever you think _works_?" She repeats the words with a slightly unimpressed tone, but at the same time it sounded sarcastic—Parzival hoped it was.

"Uh...yeah?" He says, kind of randomly and kind of unsure. He glances down at his hands. His fingers were spread over a fluffy towel, half of them very nearly lacquered in a bold colour that seemed to resemble cobalt. It matched with the blue vertical markings that ran across the sides of his fingers. The lines shimmered in the warm light of the bathroom.

"Like it?" Art3mis asks, her eyes bright. He can hear the enthusiasm in the pitch of her voice.

Parzival hums quietly in response, nods a little. "It's...pretty cool." _It makes me want to question my sexuality_. He purses his lips at that thought.

He watches Art3mis sit back and cross her legs, the white tank top she wore showing off her slim middle, and her colour. She looked good in white. She screws the brush-lid of the nail polish back into place, and sifts through the wash bag it came from.

"How about some silver?" She suggests.

Assuming she was currently finished painting the majority of his nails Parzival gingerly lifts his hands from the towel laid in his lap.

He turned his right hand round to glance at his palm, as if he were expecting some other colour of paint to appear, but nothing happened.

He curled his fingers inwards, back and forth, watched how the light reflected against the colour. He found it almost mesmerising. It was like water trapped behind glass.

It's not long before Art3mis has hold of his hands again, and she's already swiping the metallic colour across the rest of Parzival's nails without his permission (though he doesn't mind that, and he can't figure out why) and asking if he'd want some painted black instead.


End file.
